Nothing But Nothing

Black
Black as night
Black as the dark shadows in my black mind
Black as a blind man's hatred of his vision
Who hates nothing more than blackness.
Who sees little else
Black
Black as death.
Putrefied, abysmal, repungently repulsive, vile death.
Black as my horror of knowing
Who and What I am.
Of knowing what I have done.
Of what I must do and why
Black as the detached loneliness and solitude
Of being unique in my understanding of myself.
Of being solely responsible for myself and my pain
Black as my heart when I reflect on my bitter life.
Total, utter darkness
There are no lights, no tunnels. No hope.
All is lost. Gone. There is nothing there at all.
Only the complete, overwhelming blackness of emptiness & silence.
Silence is my blackest friend.
I have but one friend.

No Pity For The Weak

The blows rained down upon her
As she cried No Stop Don't
The fists smashed into her
Again Again Again
And she sobbed as she described to me
The pain, terror, humiliation
Of this the first of countless beatings
Four years ago.

I looked at her with pitiless eyes
And struggled to mask the disgust I felt
For her the weak pathetic waif
Who will not repel what is killing her
She wants it
Sickly craves it
She needs to be needed
For something, by someone
She deserves her pain
Earned through inaction
And rationalizing that he will change
Her unjustified hope
Gained her four years
Of unmitigated hell.

All around her saw the truth
And knew what she should do
But she dismissed wise advice
Ignored the intelligent path
And chose her fate
With downcast eyes
She deserves her pain
Whether fists or words or apathy
And so will you
So do you.